


A Change of Heart

by Cloudy_Serendipity



Category: Political Animals
Genre: Bisexual Thomas "T. J." Hammond, F/M, Female Reader, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut, Reader-Insert, Sebastian Stan Characters - Freeform, Secret Trist, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudy_Serendipity/pseuds/Cloudy_Serendipity
Summary: You hated when your father visited The White House.  The only good thing about the whole place was The President's son T.J. on whom you had a big crush... shame he was gay.  One night, things change.
Relationships: Thomas "T. J." Hammond/Fem!Reader, Thomas "T. J." Hammond/Reader
Kudos: 9
Collections: Cloudy's Horniest Book Club Drunk Drabbles & Challenges





	A Change of Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Spring Forward Drunk Drabble prompt by Anon. Thank you lovely ladies for the challenges and prompts <3  
> This is the first TJ Hammond thing I’ve written, I hope he’s in character, kind of ;) I wrote him and bi/discovering he’s bi. I also know didly squat about The White House and all that jazz so in this story my word is law ;)
> 
> Warnings: unrequited feelings (or are they?), sneaking around, hinted at depression, first kiss, hinted at very light smut.

Being a guest in the White House was like being held prisoner. All the security, the cameras, never being allowed out, never being alone. You hated it. Why did your father have to come visit the President?

The most interesting thing about your stay, by far, was the President’s youngest son, T.J. He was an enigma. Smiling and chipper on the outside but broken and brooding when his smile failed him. He was gorgeous, of course. Charismatic. Talented. Funny. And he was gay.

There was no chance for you with him, even if it had been permitted, but he was still the highlight of your days spent in the residence of the First Family of the United States. And now, he was the highlight of your nights, too.

“Where are we going?” You hissed as T.J. hurried you down a corridor deep in the servants quarters.

“Shhh,” he chastised, pulling you along in his wake.

Excitement filled your veins with ice, hands cold and clammy and breaths held in the shadows as T.J. followed what seemed to be a well-timed and much-practiced route that lead outside. Only once did he shove you into an alcove in the building’s exterior, clamping his hand over your mouth and pressing you against the stonework with his body, to avoid a security patrol.

Whispered warnings turned to quiet giggles as you ran with him towards the greenhouses where the chief gardener grew plants for the gardens. Some of the most beautiful flowers were grown there.

“You said you’d kill to pick flowers down by the river,” he said when you looked puzzled, “and this is the best I could do.”

His warm smile sent butterflies spiralling around in your tummy. Even in the low light cast from the illuminated exterior of The White House, his eyes gleamed with something other than mischief.

“Won’t we get in trouble for being here?” You bit your lip nervously, earning you an amused smirk.

“Only if we get caught.” T.J. winked at you cockily as he bust the lock on the door of the oldest of the greenhouses and invited you in.

Roses of various colours filled the space. The reds were deep and the whites brilliant, but it was the peach roses that drew your attention, blushing red at the base of the petals like peach melba.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” He mused after a while, snipping one from the bush with some clippers he produced from somewhere nearby. “So vibrant and full of life.”

He was so close, and you jumped a little in surprise.

“They remind me of what’s fresh and pure in this world,” he inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of the rose. “ _You_ remind me of those things.”

The rose tickled your blushing cheek as he trailed the soft petals over your jaw and down your neck. His hand captured your face, fingers sliding into the hair at your nape, and his eyes locked onto yours. There in that forbidden place, in that unexpected moment, you froze, rapt by the plush pinkness of his lips and the unevenness of his breath.

“But-”

His kiss silenced you, lips sealing in your protest, tongue wiping it away. You forgot breath and better judgement, lost in the warm play of his mouth on yours, lost in him.

It was almost experimental the way his drank you in, slow and savouring in his method; thorough. By the time you parted he had you panting and wanting, pining for his touch.

He grinned, Adam’s apple bobbing with a light chuckle. “You thought I was gay?”

You nodded. It was common knowledge that T.J. Hammond was fully into men.

“I thought I was too,” he rested his forehead against yours, “but it seems like the right girl also does it for me.” T.J. shamelessly guided your hand down to the bulge in his trousers and you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

The whole thing felt like a dream. T.J. cut roses with you, and for every rose he stole a kiss, until neither of you could hold back. Overwhelmed and burning with need, you succumbed to your desire. And on the filthy floor of the greenhouse, with the scent of roses and the soft sighs of new-found love around you, you thanked the gods for whatever reason your father had come to visit The President.


End file.
